


Office Hours

by MiraMira



Category: Star Trek (2009)
Genre: 1000-3000 words, F/M, One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-11-23
Updated: 2009-11-23
Packaged: 2017-10-03 15:49:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,020
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19787
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MiraMira/pseuds/MiraMira
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Uhura is sure an unplanned absence has ruined her chance to impress Commander Spock - until she talks to him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Office Hours

**Author's Note:**

> Written for rotae@LJ.

Uhura cursed under her breath in Swahili for what felt like the hundredth time, as she made her way across the Starfleet Academy rotunda. Of all the classes that could have been scheduled during her enforced forty-eight hour absence, Introduction to Federation Linguistics had to be one of them. The one she could least afford to skip, and not just because it was her only once a week course, or the only one not simulcasted to the 'Net. No, this was the class on which her future career in Starfleet depended. And she'd missed it.

It wasn't that she was worried about falling behind. She'd already tested out of the introductory courses covering Earthside linguistics, and had done well enough on the first exam that she felt relatively confident she could earn passing marks no matter what happened the rest of the term. But passing wasn't good enough. Although Uhura consistently ranked near if not at the top of her classes, she didn't have the off-world experience or family connections that some of her closest competitors in the standings could boast. The respect and recommendation of the instructors in her chosen field was her best hope at the important posting she yearned for, and no instructor in the whole Academy doled out praise more sparingly than Commander Spock. A referral from him containing any adjective more positive than "adequate" would be more valuable than dilithium reserves in the emptiest reaches of space.

And yes, if she was being entirely honest with herself, she wanted to impress him in part because of his dark eyes and the arch of his eyebrows and the way his long fingers sometimes curled around the lectern while he spoke about the intricacies of Vulcan syntax. But she saw no more opportunity of realizing that ambition than any of the other students at the Academy – a significant portion of the females, and several of the males – who shared it, and expressing it openly in any fashion would no doubt jeopardize her other dreams. Better to channel her passion into her studies and hope he saw it there once she was able to apply for the smaller, higher-level seminars.

Provided, of course, he didn't take one look at her besmirched attendance record and immediately disqualify her.

"_Deep breath, Nyota_," she scolded herself. If there was one guaranteed way to ruin her reputation with an instructor raised on Vulcan, it would be displaying an illogical degree of panic. No matter how worried she was, she had to maintain self-control. Squaring her shoulders back, she continued her march down the hall.

She found the Commander's door open. He was at his desk, bent over a data pad, which he set down at her approach. "Commander Spock? I'm—"

"Cadet Uhura." So much for anonymity. He didn't seem irritated, though: at least, she had always taken the short, clipped tone he used with engineering students who signed up for linguistics courses under the mistaken impression they'd be a "soft" elective for irritation. Right now, his voice was courteous, almost gentle. "You were not in lecture this morning. Is all well?"

"Yes, sir. That's what I'm here about. My roommate came down with a case of Larosian virus, and Medical put me under quarantine until her symptoms passed." Uhura prayed Spock wouldn't ask her how the illness had been contracted. Suffice it to say, Gaila wouldn't be playing "connect the dots" with any visiting Trills again if she knew what was good for her. "I've asked some classmates for the lecture notes, but I was wondering if there was anything in particular I should focus on."

His gaze shifted imperceptibly to an expression of deep concentration. "As I assume you took advantage of your confinement to read Chapter Four thoroughly, I do not believe the material should cause you any great confusion." She was about to assure him that of course she had, but realized he did, in fact, seem to take her studiousness for granted. "You may wish to take a look at the cited sources for Section Seven, however. I suspect you would find T'lak's work particularly relevant to your questions regarding nonspecificity and its implications when conversing with different species."

She'd asked that question over two weeks ago, and had been trying to forget doing so ever since he'd dismissed it as a fascinating query but outside the scope of the course. To learn that his response hadn't been intended as a brush-off almost made the entire ordeal worthwhile. "I'll do that, sir. Thank you."

Believing the discussion was over, she prepared to leave until he addressed her, voice even softer than before. "One moment, Cadet. Have you already obtained the notes from the presentation?"

"No, sir," she admitted. "I only just sent the requests."

Spock picked up the data pad lying on his desk and tapped out a command. No sooner had he set it back down than she heard her own chime. Opening it, she discovered the default display had been replaced by a document in flowing vertical script. Some of the portions were highlighted; others were crossed out and overwritten in red.

"They are untranslated from the Vulcan," Spock explained. "I trust that will not present a problem."

Was it her imagination, or had he placed the tiniest stress of confidence on "trust"? At the very least, she knew it hadn't been a question, and that alone was enough to make Uhura beam. "No, sir. Thank you, sir."

He nodded. "You are most welcome. Next week's assignment is Chapter Five and Sato's essay on non-humanoid xenolinguistics." One corner of his mouth inclined upward. "I look forward to your insights."

Uhura walked out: her pulse racing faster than ever, though for entirely different reasons. He'd noticed her absence, in a class of over three hundred. No, not just noticed, been concerned by it. He'd found her work ethic impressive. He'd given her – _trusted_ her with – a copy of his own presentation notes. And he'd smiled at her. She'd _made_ him smile.

Illogical though it might have been, Uhura clutched the data pad to her chest and grinned.


End file.
